


Baggage

by Trash



Series: Thirty Days [6]
Category: AFI
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, M/M, Slightly porny, but not so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davey loses his luggage and Adam loses his cool</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baggage

**Author's Note:**

> For Ella. Day 6 of the 30 Day OTP challenge - wearing each other's clothes.

Davey emerges from the customer service booth with nothing to show for his luggage but a receipt to say it is lost somewhere between where they are now and where they just left. Was it Britain? Or is that where they are now? Location is irrelevant - because wherever they are is where that damned pink Hello Kitty suitcase isn't, but where Davey's sullen expression is. 

Jade takes the receipt and inspects it. "What does the 'l' on the front stand for? Loser?"

"Shut up, asshole," Davey snatches it back and Jade's hand flies to his mouth, sucking his index finger with wide eyes. 

"Okay, okay. No need to cut me."

"Oh sweetheart, you wouldn't know what hit you if I cut you."

Adam stares at Hunter who is watching a dog just outside the arrivals door, tugging at its lead and clawing at the glass to get the attention of someone inside. When he looks back at Jade he has his eyes narrowed and his hands in his pockets. Davey's threats are empty, though by now Adam has to wonder if Dave could ever hurt anyone more than he hurts himself. 

"Whatever. I'll just have to borrow your clothes."

"Who?" Jade asks, "mine? No fucking way. You'll stretch them all to hell. You're not as skinny as you like to think you are."

Their bickering is like the drone of a million bees and Adam can't stand it any more. "Enough!" He snaps. "Shut the fuck up."

Smith appears, still drunk from the inflight beers he insisted he had to drink for good luck, smiling and oblivious. "Ladies, the taxis are here."

Adam walks away without another word, with the others following. 

***

"I drew your name out of Smith's hat," Davey says, sidling up to him in the hotel lobby. 

Adam smirks, says under his breath, "You don't need to lie. They all know we are fucking."

Davey swats at his arm and looks disgusted. "Shush. I want to maintain some element of mystery."

In the room Adam watches Davey unpack his case for him, breezing around the room as if they were staying for a week rather than a night. "Don't hang them up, Dave, it's fine."

"Are you kidding me? They'll crease. And besides, I'm gonna have to wear some of these." He curls his nose briefly, doesn't school his expression into submission quickly enough. 

"Dude. They're my clothes. Don't pull a face."

"I know," Davey sighs, exasperated. "But my Marc by Marc Jacobs suit would have been perfect for press tomorrow. And I had wanted to wear my Armani One suit for dinner tonight. And fuck, my gold jacket and all my show stuff is in that fucking suitcase."

"I've told you to use the wardrobe cases but will you listen to me?"

Davey glares. He holds up a button down shirt to his chest. "What do you think?"

"I think they're all going to be too big for you. Why don't we just got shopping? Surely there's a mall..." He stops, watching Davey pull on a plain black Tshirt. He sniffs his own, pulling a face, and removes his jeans to replace them with a pair of Adam's sweats. "Woah," Adam says, "they're my rehearsal sweats, you know that."

Davey stands there, naked from the waist down, holding the sweatpants. "And?"

"And, you know I don't wear underwear with them."

Davey looks down at his own dick, then back up at Adam with a raised eyebrow. "Are they clean?" He asks. 

"Yes."

"So what's the problem? It isn't like you didn't have your tongue in my ass last night. When did this kind of thing start to bother you?"

Adam feels himself flush but doesn't protest again as Davey pulls on the sweatpants. They're too baggy and long, as is the Tshirt, and it gives him a disgustingly attractive jock look. A look that says I-just-threw-this-on-to-go-to-the-gym-but-they'll-look-better-on-your-bedroom-floor. "Take those off," Adam says. "Now." He walks forward, backing Davey up against the bathroom door. 

"Woah. What?"

Adam takes Davey's hand and presses it between his legs instead of answering with words. Davey presses, rubs Adam slowly through his pants. "Oh," he says, looking up with a smirk. 

"Like I said," Adam growls. "Take. Them. Off."

Davey does.


End file.
